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Kill Me. The King

Basking briefly in this overeating indulgence of insides

But I fear he's lower than before

Though he's stronger than he looks

He's made of feathers mixed with oil and small servings

Of hands and feet

Up so high

How do they flutter so damn high?

Now begin the search that hails you home

I think I lost my means

He said with his face in the cup

Desperate times make for desperate people

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written by GOURLEY, JOHN BALDWIN

Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.

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